


Clan of Two

by SmoggyFogbottom



Series: Din Djarin Just Wants Friends [6]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, I made myself sad while writing this, i just want these sad lads to be together ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoggyFogbottom/pseuds/SmoggyFogbottom
Summary: The child pulls off a mini-caper while at the Jedi temple.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Grogu | Baby Yoda
Series: Din Djarin Just Wants Friends [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614700
Comments: 19
Kudos: 121





	1. Grogu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place some time shortly after the season 2 finale. I tried writing this from Grogu's pov, which turned out to be harder than i thought it would. The second chapter will be from Din's pov.

The dull white cylinder on the desk was special. The teacher left it behind and this was important to remember. Teacher said not to take what belonged to others, but all alone on the desk – it belonged to no one. No one would mind if he took care of it. 

Moving quietly, Grogu grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled himself up slowly and surely. The Force whispered all around him, teasing him, offering to be used, but he ignored the call. It was his turn to play, and he didn’t want anyone else interrupting him. Finally! He made it to the top, he plopped down and rested his arms. Every day he was getting stronger but climbing up such a long way was still such hard work. 

Huffing, he crawled over to the cylinder and picked it up in both hands. He was tempted to press the button and talk right away, but this was his now. It was important to keep it secret. He tucked it into the pocket of his robes, right next to his other toys. 

Thankfully, climbing down was much easier than going up. Taking a moment to make sure no one heard him, he sidled along the wall to the open door of the classroom and peaked out into the open hallway. His nearby friends were softly sleeping, their minds at peace. Confident he could make his getaway, he slipped around the doorframe and raced down the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him. 

Leaving the temple behind him, his heart filled with excitement as he made his escape. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was going to his own place. A place only he knew. 

At the edge of the courtyard a statue of a forgotten figure lay crumbled against an exterior wall. It hid a little opening that was just big enough for him to fit. Grogu found it while exploring one day. Reaching down to the ground, he crawled through the opening and into a small, warm hovel. The grass, the stone, the land, they told him a small animal lived here once upon a time. But nothing had lived here for a while. Now it was his hideaway. 

A small rock ledge displayed some of the things that made him happy. What he loved most was a small wooden man one of his new friends carved for him. They painted it silver just for him. Walking over to it he held it in his hands before nodding confidently. He knew it would work this time. Placing the figure in his pocket, he exchanged it with the newly acquired cylinder. 

_Buir_ . He thought. It was a title no one ever said but it was an idea that had been thought of by his guardian. The shiny man who rescued him from the bad ones. _Buir -_ father _._ It made him happy. 

Thinking about the letters and digits that belonged to his buir, he pressed the buttons and began to talk. He chatted and babbled about everything he could think of and everything important to know. 

Cradling the cylinder in his hands, he waited for an answer, a familiar voice. His eyes drifted over to a small pile of identical cylinders. He knew they were used for talking, but he couldn’t get a single one to work. Not one got through to the only person he wanted to speak with. Picking up the tiny carved figure once more, he held it tightly in his hand and pressed the talk button on the cylinder. He would keep trying. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok - real talk. The separation of Din and Grogu BROKE MY HEART. I understand he needs to be trained but I'm obsessed with the idea of Grogu becoming a tiny mandalorian. When we get season 3 if they don't get back together, i hope at the very least they're in touch in some form. Who would have ever guessed a suit of armor and a puppet could ever devastate us so much. Favreau, we would have shown up for season 3, you didn't need to do this to us. Don't get me wrong, I loved the finale, but WILL be spending my Christmas sad about make believe characters


	2. Din Djarin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din has a moment of reflection during his current mission.

The swirling blues, whites, and greys came to an immediate stop as Din exited hyperspace. Before him and all around was the expansive void of space, broken up by tiny pinpricks of light from distant stars and planets. 

He was following a threadbare lead in the hopes of finding surviving members of his old covert. As much as he didn’t care for the personal ambition of Bo-Katan, he agreed that they were stronger together. And despite what at times felt like impassible divides between the two of them, he held tight to the knowledge that the very core of what they believed was the same. Hell, they were both taught the same rhyme as children - _Ba'jur_ _bal_ _beskar'gam_ _,_ _Ara'nov_ _,_ _aliit_ _,_ _Mando'a_ _bal_ _Mand'alor_ _—_ _An_ _vencuyan_ _mhi_ _._ A reminder for children and foundlings about the importance of their armor, their tribe, their culture, and the ability to defend their people. If they could agree on this, there was hope the rest could work itself out. 

The current objective was reuniting the disparate Mandalorian tribes. Din had been tasked with reaching out to other Children of the Watch. To gauge their interest in retaking the homeworld. 

It was not an easy task. 

So far, the new ship was the only foreseeable benefit. A Gauntlet starfighter was sleeker than anything he had flown before, and objectively – a finer ship than the Razor Crest. Didn’t mean there wasn’t wistful nostalgia for his old pile of junk. There were some things that a newer ship simply couldn't compete with. 

Reaching over to the nav screen, his hand brushed against the only existing piece of his old ship. The shiny control knob, hanging by a chain from the roof of the cockpit. It swung back and forth, and he held it still. The boy decided it was a prized possession, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. Now the trinket was an item he could not part with – it went with him everywhere. 

Didn’t matter how many weeks passed since he let the kid go – the ache hadn’t left. Parts of it dulled, but it still hurt. 

Clearing his throat, he pulled the screen down. No sign of the contact’s coordinates. Hells, he managed to find a Jedi, didn’t expect the trail of his own kind to be colder. Frustrated, he pinged the system’s nearest comm-buoy. Maybe there was lag? 

Seconds passed before an alarm started ringing. Scanning quickly through the ship’s systems, the alert was sounding from – of all places – his comm system. A backlog of hundreds of messages began flooding communications. He didn’t recognize any of the comlink IDs, but tracking the signal from the comm-buoy, they all appeared to be transmitting from the same area. At long last the alarm stopped; the system no longer overwhelmed. 

Pulling up the first message, his heart nearly stopped as Grogu’s voice filled the cockpit. Nonsensical words and chirps, carrying on like he was meant to understand. The second message, third message, fourth message; same. Time stamps indicated hundreds of files spread out over a month. Until now he had been too far in the outer reaches for them to find their way. 

Retrieving the ID for the most recent comlink, he flipped a switch to connect. Din hesitated. He was still too far for direct communication. There was no guarantee the message would be received by the kid. More than likely to be intercepted by one of his teachers. 

He shook his head. “Grogu?” He paused again. What could he say? “Hey buddy, I got your messages. Do you like your training?” He winced. What else could he ask? Talking was never his strength – an irony for his current mission. “You keep getting strong – we'll see each other soon.” A lump formed in his throat. “I miss you.” 

He cut the message. He stared at the screen, letting the emotions he’d bottled up over the last few months wash over him. Selfishly, he wanted to travel to the temple and take the kid. It was child endangerment at best, but it would ease his heart to have the kid by his side. 

The backlog cleared, a new file transmitted to the ship’s system – nothing but a set of coordinates. The kid was safe. He repeated the thought, shaking loose the ill-advised kidnapping plan. The mission took priority now. Shaking his head, he began inputting the newly received coordinates. Time to find his people. 


End file.
